


Ashes To Ashes

by AKMars



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Crack, Friendship, Gen, Horror, Humor, intervention therapy, may cause flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKMars/pseuds/AKMars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was a bonus fic chosen during my Dec. 2012 Gift Fic Offer</p>
<p>I had planned on writing only three stories.  However after looking over the prompts and seeing this one, the story (albeit short) popped out of my brain almost fully-formed.  It had to be written....it just had to (this is what happens when other people feed my brain monster).  See notes at the end for prompt info.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ashes To Ashes

Title: Ashes To Ashes.....  
Written For: Tezukasama's LJ Gift Fic Offer 12/2012  
Characters: John Reese, Harold Finch  
Rating: PG (for scenes of implied disturbing behavior)  
Word Count: 582

 

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John couldn't help himself really. No-one on the right side of sanity would’ve laid blame at his doorstep for it either; not if they'd come face to face with what Reese had seen. The first time John returned to the library and caught his partner in the middle of his perversion had been unsettling to say the least. Finch was mortified at having been found out but as the incidents continued, with increasing frequency; he seemed to almost _relish_ having John watch. 

After two months of such exhibitionism, Reese had come to the end of his tolerance. He could put off the inevitable no longer or it would be impossible to separate Harold from his obsession. There was only one available course of action; no other and he acted without hesitation or pause to re-consider what he was doing. 

_It had to be done_ , John thought after the dust had settled... _and I was the only one around who could have dealt with it._

That he felt no regret for his actions only justified them in his mind all the more. Surely if there had been something _heinous_ about the deed, Reese would have experienced at least a twinge of guilt. There was nothing in his breast except peace and the certainty of completing a task that, left ignored, would have only led to further acts of degrading humiliation on the part of his friend.

It had been for the best, _all for the best._ Harold had fought him though...tooth and nail like a wild thing to hold onto the tattered remnants of his love. John persevered; had adamantly pried Finch's fingers off of the aging thing, then banished the recluse from the room while he finished the job. 

The thing had to go...it just wasn't healthy for Finch to keep it around.... _disturbing, quite frankly...._ and so he steeled himself against the pleading sobs that, though muffled behind the wooden door, still wormed their way into his heart. He drew heavily on the reserve of detachment cultivated during his years with the CIA to complete his task.

A soft _scratch_...faint smell of sulphur and the monstrosity was engulfed in flames, orange-yellow tongues licking hungrily over its surface; devouring the op's offering with relish. The pleading had degenerated into broken song, Harold's voice struggling to form words through his overwhelming grief.

_"shinin' like the sun, smilin' havin' fun;  
feelin' like I'm number one.....”_

A few choking hiccups were heard before the billionaire tried again, 

_“here I go again, my-my how can I resist you?  
....blue since the day we parted...why-why did I ever let you gooooo?"_

The quiet singing dwindled into a groan and then...at last...blessed silence.

John stared at the fragments of warped vinyl and charred record sleeve; its photograph of two men and two women in sequined costumes almost unrecognizable. Even better was the stench of burnt polyester hitting his nose like a bouquet of roses....Finch's hideous lime green leisure suit had dissolved into a pile of blackened goo.

Reese poked the smoldering mess with a yardstick, pushing it deeper down inside the metal waste can he'd dumped both album and outfit in before setting the match to it. He felt an almost surreal sense of disorientation...Of all the things he had killed in his career, John never expected disco to be one of them.

**poipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoipoi**

NOTES: whomii2's prompt stated that it must include the following sentence: 'Of all the things he had killed in his career, John never expected disco to be one of them.' I ask all of you, how could I NOT have written this story.

Having said that, although I admit being a devoted fan of ABBA; I have a pathologic fear of polyester _(shudder)_ lol. Whomii2: THANK YOU! This was so much fun to write.


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